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Authors: Dorothy B. Hughes
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will get in no trouble.”
The music halted, began again. They danced silently. The number was over. He asked, standing in front of her there on the floor, “Why were you asking all the questions about the marble? You know about it. Don’t you?”
She looked straight at him. “No, I don’t.”
PART V
1
Bette didn’t come on Sundays. But at nine o’clock someone was pounding at the door, pounding hard. Griselda came out of sleep, belted her white robe about her, put her feet into the white cord slippers, and went to answer. She opened it on the chain. She saw the uniform, and another man not in uniform.
The uniform said, “Sorry to disturb you, Miss. We’d like to ask a few questions if you don’t mind.”
“One moment.” The door had to be shut to take off the chain. She could close her eyes for that space, try to think. She opened the door. “You’ll excuse how I look. I was asleep.” Then she asked, “What’s happened?”
The policeman was Sergeant Moore; the plainclothes man, Inspector Tobin. They told her their names after Tobin had asked, “You’re Mrs. Satterlee?”
“I use Miss.” Such a trivial correction. Then she repeated. “What’s happened? You’ve found him?”
Tobin’s nostrils twitched. Moore stared at her.
“Found whom?”
“Mr. Grain, the superintendent.”
The Inspector had eyes that could look sideways. His mouth was sideways, too. “What do you know about it?”
She had spoken too quickly but she could make it right. “My maid told me.” She walked to a chair, motioned for them to be seated. She skirted the new rug but they walked right where he had been, not dead of heart failure.
“Where is she?”
They sat on the couch. The Sergeant’s knees were in his way. He took off his cap, awkwardly. The Inspector didn’t remove his brown fedora.
“She doesn’t come on Sundays. She told me yesterday morning. Mrs. Grain was worried.” She repeated that pathetic little quirk. “He hadn’t been away from her at night for forty years.” She felt her nostrils sting as if tears were coming. Ridiculous, yet it was sad. She asked again, “You’ve found him?”
“Yeah.” The Inspector answered out of his mouth.
She leaned forward but she took a cigarette before speaking. She looked at the match and her voice sounded natural. “Where?”
“The janitor found him.”
“Janitor?” Her eyes widened.
Sergeant Moore said, “Certainly knocked him for a loop.”
She repeated. She had to know. “Where was he-when the janitor found him?”
The Inspector asked, “D’ya mind, Miss?” He took a battered pack of Luckies from his pocket.
She urged, “Forgive me, I forgot.” She handed her box across, insisted. She laughed a little. “I don’t know the manners of an investigation. I’ve never been in one.”
He laughed too, not very much. “Don’t imagine you have. “You’re visiting, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Your husband’s apartment?”
“Yes, he offered it to me. He’s away. We are divorced, you know.”
He seemed to know. He pushed his hat sideways. “Yeah. Sort of a funny setup, isn’t it?”
Her eyes widened again, deliberately now. She didn’t know where he was heading. “You mean my using this place?” She shook her head, thinking it out. “No. No, it isn’t. I haven’t seen him in four years but it’s like him to offer. He read in the paper that I was coming, and wrote offering…”
“You write letters to each other then?” The Sergeant asked this.”No. I don’t imagine we’ve written a half dozen in that time. Always for business reasons. But-if you knew my former husband, you’d understand.”
Inspector Tobin turned his lip in. “I know
The music halted, began again. They danced silently. The number was over. He asked, standing in front of her there on the floor, “Why were you asking all the questions about the marble? You know about it. Don’t you?”
She looked straight at him. “No, I don’t.”
PART V
1
Bette didn’t come on Sundays. But at nine o’clock someone was pounding at the door, pounding hard. Griselda came out of sleep, belted her white robe about her, put her feet into the white cord slippers, and went to answer. She opened it on the chain. She saw the uniform, and another man not in uniform.
The uniform said, “Sorry to disturb you, Miss. We’d like to ask a few questions if you don’t mind.”
“One moment.” The door had to be shut to take off the chain. She could close her eyes for that space, try to think. She opened the door. “You’ll excuse how I look. I was asleep.” Then she asked, “What’s happened?”
The policeman was Sergeant Moore; the plainclothes man, Inspector Tobin. They told her their names after Tobin had asked, “You’re Mrs. Satterlee?”
“I use Miss.” Such a trivial correction. Then she repeated. “What’s happened? You’ve found him?”
Tobin’s nostrils twitched. Moore stared at her.
“Found whom?”
“Mr. Grain, the superintendent.”
The Inspector had eyes that could look sideways. His mouth was sideways, too. “What do you know about it?”
She had spoken too quickly but she could make it right. “My maid told me.” She walked to a chair, motioned for them to be seated. She skirted the new rug but they walked right where he had been, not dead of heart failure.
“Where is she?”
They sat on the couch. The Sergeant’s knees were in his way. He took off his cap, awkwardly. The Inspector didn’t remove his brown fedora.
“She doesn’t come on Sundays. She told me yesterday morning. Mrs. Grain was worried.” She repeated that pathetic little quirk. “He hadn’t been away from her at night for forty years.” She felt her nostrils sting as if tears were coming. Ridiculous, yet it was sad. She asked again, “You’ve found him?”
“Yeah.” The Inspector answered out of his mouth.
She leaned forward but she took a cigarette before speaking. She looked at the match and her voice sounded natural. “Where?”
“The janitor found him.”
“Janitor?” Her eyes widened.
Sergeant Moore said, “Certainly knocked him for a loop.”
She repeated. She had to know. “Where was he-when the janitor found him?”
The Inspector asked, “D’ya mind, Miss?” He took a battered pack of Luckies from his pocket.
She urged, “Forgive me, I forgot.” She handed her box across, insisted. She laughed a little. “I don’t know the manners of an investigation. I’ve never been in one.”
He laughed too, not very much. “Don’t imagine you have. “You’re visiting, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Your husband’s apartment?”
“Yes, he offered it to me. He’s away. We are divorced, you know.”
He seemed to know. He pushed his hat sideways. “Yeah. Sort of a funny setup, isn’t it?”
Her eyes widened again, deliberately now. She didn’t know where he was heading. “You mean my using this place?” She shook her head, thinking it out. “No. No, it isn’t. I haven’t seen him in four years but it’s like him to offer. He read in the paper that I was coming, and wrote offering…”
“You write letters to each other then?” The Sergeant asked this.”No. I don’t imagine we’ve written a half dozen in that time. Always for business reasons. But-if you knew my former husband, you’d understand.”
Inspector Tobin turned his lip in. “I know
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